by K. L. Jessop
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
Author Thanks
Acknowledgements
Let’s Connect
Other Books
About the Author
Unworthy of You
The Spring Rose Bay Series Book 2
UNWORTHY OF YOU
Copyright 2017 K.L.Jessop
Najla Qamber Designs - Cover Design.
Lindee Robinson Photography - Photo Image.
Cover Models- Andrew Kruczynski and Chelsey Nicole
Schmidt’s Author Services- Editing
Book formatting by White Hot Ebook Formatting
Amazon License Notes:
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. All rights reserved.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorised electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organisations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is also available in print from most online retailers.
*This novel contains adult/mature young adult situations. It is only suitable for ages 18+ due to language, violence, and sexual situations*
~ Dedication. ~
To those that have been my rock. X
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Epilogue
Author Thanks
Acknowledgements
Let’s Connect
Other Books
About the Author
Prologue
Andrew
Broken.
That’s all I know… all I feel… all that I am: bad memories and broken dreams.
Couple that with bad luck and you have my whole life in one hit. Unwanted, unloved, unlovable, that’s all I was. That’s all I was told… and they were right.
When you’re brainwashed day in, day out, time after time, second after second, you believe it. It becomes second nature. It becomes your life. It becomes you.
I’m the boy that nobody wanted—the man that can’t be loved. I’m the one who creates bad fucking luck in whatever he touches. I generate heartache and sorrow. Ruin lives and hurt others just by being around them. That’s me. That’s what I do. I can’t stop it even if I try. For others, bad luck comes in threes. Mine befriends me: it hangs over my head waiting to stab me in the back like a lightning strike and destroy me and those around me once more. Luck is never on my side. Even when I had that one chance of happiness, it soon became a heartache of dark clouds and shit storms and I’ve spent years paying its price.
I’m a man with wounds that can’t be healed—wounds that don’t deserve to be healed—a poor excuse of a human being with little hope and a shattered future.
But then she kissed me, and my God, I wish she hadn’t.
Chapter One
Megan
Six months later.
“Oh god… Yes!”
The delicious burn fizzes up my thighs and begins to pool in my pelvis. My breathing becomes shallower, and my toes curl against the sheets. I’ve longed for this all day. I’ve teased and tormented myself for the past few hours, making me more ready than ever as I strip myself bare. I’m wet, desperate and never been so turned on by my own inappropriate thoughts: thoughts of him and what I’d love him to do to me, thoughts of how I want him to sweep the files from my desk as he bends me over the hard oak and demonstrate all the moves he was born to utilise. Those dirty thoughts of Channing Tatum have been constant and help tremendously when I need to defuse. I hardly envy anyone, but shit me, I want to be one of those women in Magic Mike.
My body shudders, my skin dusted in a light sheen of perspiration, a mixture of the intensity and the heat of the sun that streams in through the window. With my eyes closed, I lay and let satisfaction take over, enjoying that fuzzy feeling inside before the haze slowly begins to break, secretly thanking my vibrator for its excellent job.
“Congratulations, Miss Simmons, you’ve managed to fulfil your needs once again without a human hot-rod between your thighs.” I breathe to myself, hitting the pause button on my DVD player so Channing’s manly body fills my T.V screen. This is the first time in nine days I’ve done this—succumbed to a sex toy and the equivalent to male dance porn—but just the thought of spending another evening in a club with extremely fuckable men is sexual torture. I’ve not had sex in twenty-two weeks and three days—yes, I’m counting—and to be truthful, its sudden disappearance is scaring the absolute shit out of me… because I love sex! I’m known for my endless nights of drunken, table top dancing, leaving the club with a guy, waking and having no clue who he is befo
re doing the walk of shame in a pair of sexy heels the following morning. Am I proud of it? Fuck no, but I need my desires tamed and when did a man ever turn down the opportunity for a good ride?
Maybe my libido has gone because I’m having a midlife crisis… at twenty-six.
Jesus
The thought of that alone makes me suicidal.
“Megan? Are you here?” I hear Amelia from the far end of my house.
“Just a minute,” I shout, quickly sorting myself out and slipping on my vest top and favourite Mickey Mouse pants before heading to the kitchen. Amelia is standing in a tight black dress and red ‘fuck me’ heels as she lines the breakfast bar with shot glasses and Tequila.
“Damn, it’s a shame we’re both into guys because you look way too sexy for your own good.”
“You can thank Marcus for that, he bought me it the other day as a surprise,” she says without turning. “Oh, Felicity called to say she’ll meet us there.”
“Ok, that’s fine.” I sigh happily. Amelia immediately stops pouring and turns in my direction, narrowing her eyes at me from across the room and resting on one leg.
“You’ve just had a Channing Tatum orgasm, haven’t you?”
I couldn’t help the giggle. This girl knows me all too well.
“Megan!” she says with a grin.
“What? We don’t all have Mr Man-Candy at home to play with. I’ve gone weeks without an orgasm,” I lie.
“That’s not the point. Your door was unlocked; anyone could have walked in.”
I raise my brows. “This coming from the woman that fucked her fiancé in her office and left the door ajar?”
Her face shot pink.
“Yeah, I saw you the other day, Miss I-Follow-The-Rule-Book’.”
“Shit,” she whispers, but it comes out more of a squeal.
“Damn right. Now finish pouring the Tequila. You need to lubricate your throat as it sounds a little dry.”
Amelia and I met years back, in London, when working in a hotel before moving down to the coast to start afresh. The first time I laid eyes on her, she intrigued me with her sexy slim frame that was swallowed in the most beautiful red curls that fell around her shoulders and her eyes as blue as the ocean. There was something about her that I needed to know more of, and from that moment we’ve been inseparable. Like before, we still work together, only this time at The Grand hotel: a seven-star palace with marble floors and chandeliers sutiated along the promenade of Spring Rose.
The Grand is owned by Marcus, Ameila’s fiancé, who also happens to own his own property and development company, while Amelia is the assitant manager. I, on the other hand, greet guests at the front of house.
Amelia hands me my drink, throwing hers back in one hit. “God, I needed that.”
“Bad day?” I ask curiously.
“No, I just needed it.” She grins. “So, what are you wearing tonight?”
“I’m not sure yet, but it’s likely to be sinful.”
“Megan, everything in your wardrobe is sinful. Do you ever give your body a break?”
“Sundays,” I joke, making my way over and hitting play on my stereo so Katy Perry fills the living room.
“Sundays, you wear a nightshirt that barely covers your ass. How is that not sinful?”
“My boobs are covered. What more do you want?”
Like most weekends, Friday nights start with us blue-eyed girls strutting our fine figures in Rubies—another property that Marcus owns—while the club fills with sweaty bodies and alcohol. I’m a social freak. I love meeting new people, having fun, and that along with muscled men always has me in an undeniable drug craving twist. My soul needs feeding and it likes to be fed with fun and sex.
“I’m a little thirsty over here, woman,” Amelia shouts from the other side of the room as I pour us another drink while shaking my hips to the music. “Less dancing and more drinking.”
“Tequila suddenly prevented you from using your legs?”
“No, but I’ve been on my feet since seven.”
“Oh, so hard done by,” I say sarcastically.
“You try to work closely with Andrew and you’ll understand.”
“Ha! No thanks, just looking at him makes me miserable.” Andrew, our boss and overall manager at The Grand, is an arsehole. The man hardly has any personality and suffers from the inability to crack a smile at any woman unless their name is Amelia or Felicity.
“He’s not that bad,” she laughs.
“He’s not that smiley either.”
As I dance my way over to where she’s sitting, a grin sweeps across her face as I sway. I feel electric, that never-ending fire bubbling in the pit of my belly. Handing Amelia her drink, I dance in front of her, slowly lacing my fingers through my long blonde hair and rotating my hips as I move. She giggles at my seductiveness, as I flaunt myself towards her. This is us; this is what we do. Over the years, we’ve shared the same bed in little clothing or none at all depending on how drunk we got. We’ve shared tears of joy and shed tears of heartache, exposed our flaws and overcome demons. Our bond is our own sisterhood.
“Behave, Miss Simmons, I’m an engaged lady now.”
“Oh, come on, you were mine long before you were his,” I laugh before standing upright and returning to my drink. “Speaking of which, where is Mr Beautiful anyway?”
“He’ll be here any minute. He had to stop off at the hotel, so I suggest you hurry up.”
Marcus is a god when it comes to all things manly. That and the fact he has a heart of gold makes him perfect for Amelia. I’ve never seen a couple more in love like I have those to.
“In that case I best go jump in the shower. Send him in if he wants to scrub my back,” I tease before grabbing her face with both hands to whisper. “Don’t drink all the booze.” I kiss her nose and turn to skip my way back out.
“Megan?”
I look back to find her grinning with a curious look in her eyes.
“You haven’t gone weeks without any orgasms, have you?”
“Ha! Fuck no.”
***
The low-light nightclub of Rubies is a mixture of mirrors and hard wood. Holiday-makers and hometown regulars prop the bar up while women take to the dance floor. This place is my home on weekends and never fails to get the adrenaline pumping as soon as I walk through the door.
“I’ll grab the drinks,” I announce, heading to the bar as the girls and Marcus get a table. “Jack, I need service when you’re ready.”
“What can I get you, baby girl?”
“Two margaritas and a whiskey for Marcus, please.”
Like many men in Spring Rose, Jack too is a fine figure of a man and one of my closest friends. Dripping in strength and ink, he works this club like a king rules his colony.
“I’ve not heard from Lucas in a while. What’s he up to?” he asks.
“Still sorting out stuff in L.A before he moves. He’s finally told Mum and Dad he’s moving back here, so you can imagine how that went down.”
My mother has different views on where her children should live. Growing up as a city girl, she never understood why my brother, Lucas and I, wanted a life and career outside of high buildings and city smog.
“When’s his moving date?”
“Not sure, but he’s coming over soon.” I beam in excitement. I hadn’t realised how much I missed Lucas until he went back to LA after the summer. We too have a bond that will never break, even though he is seriously overprotective.
Jack places my order on the bar and adds it to Marcus’ tab… oh the perks of having a friend in high places. “Jack, babe, I ordered three drinks, you’ve done me four.”
“I know. That’s for the miserable sod who’s just joined your party.”
I turn my head in the direction he nods and my breath hitches. There he is. Andrew Harris. The arsehole that walks the hotels floors like a Greek god and sent chills cascading my spine when our lips made contact all those months ago. I’m always up for a cha
llenge, but that guy is one tough cookie to crack, and with just one kiss, managed to turn my world upside down. He’s arrogant, stubborn and completely unavoidable. The way his fingertips traced circles on my thighs drove me wild, not to mention his tongue that I know damn well would send my body into a frenzy the further south it trailed.
He’s sat with the rest of the group in a white shirt and black work trousers, clearly having just left work when we all finished hours ago. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle when his gaze finds mine. His dark, five o’clock shadow is immaculate as ever and his body is built like a king. He’s a man that can carry off a business suit but makes every nerve ending in my body tingle when he’s dripping in seawater and hard muscle.
Making my way over, I place the tray of drinks on the table and hand them out, trying not to give away the fact that this man sends me a little off-balance. “Andrew, I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Didn’t realise I had to inform you.”
Arrogant as usual.
“You don’t. You’re normally still at work, that’s all.”
“He made an exception for me,” Amelia adds, smoothing her hand over his arm.
You’d think us all being friends and the two of us sharing a kiss that he’d be more at ease with me, but I see less of him now than I did before. It’s as if he’s running.
“How are the interviews going, Andrew?” Felicity asks.
“Oh yeah!” I say eagerly, looking at him. “Do you have anyone in mind yet? I’m excited to know who I’ll be working with.” His response is nothing more than a nod before he turns to Felicity and answers the original question, looking at her with content as though he’s just banged the shit out of her in a corridor. He can be such a dickhead, and I hate the fact he’s an undeniable sexy one.
With the frustration that’s beginning to burn through me from his presence, I take my drink and head to the dance floor. Music is my drug, and letting the beat fills my veins as people enclose around me never disappoints.
A rush of satisfaction rivers through me as I lose myself in a world where time stops and people don’t matter, as body sweat and shadows fill the smoky dark room and the base thuds against my chest.
